


The Big Snag

by Persiflage



Series: Johnson & Coulson Exchange 2k17 [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Noir, F/M, First Kiss, Inspired by..., Johnson & Coulson Exchange 2k17, Magical Artifacts, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Warehouse 13 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9194357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Warehouse 13 AU: Phil and Daisy find themselves trapped in a noir novel.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> Bonus fic written for the Johnson & Coulson Exchange for the prompt _Movie/TV AU_. I happened to be re-watching Warehouse 13 when I reached 4:13 - The Big Snag, and realised it was the perfect setting for a Phil  & Daisy AU. Although the episode features Pete & Myka falling into a noir novel, Phil and Daisy are more like the characters of Artie and Claudia (although theirs is acknowledged in show as more of a father/daughter relationship). Much of the dialogue in this fic is borrowed from the W13 episode, as well as the setting and action.

"How many errant static electricity balls are there?" Daisy asks Coulson as one comes hurtling down the aisle in the Stacks towards them.

"Too many," Coulson answers with a frown.

"Bring it electric boogaloo," she calls, which makes him smile. 

She spins across in front of him, the green jade elephant in her hand taking the hit, and lighting up.

"Okay, drop it on the battery," Coulson says, and Daisy brings it down firmly so that the static electric charge transfers from the elephant onto the battery that he wears like a backpack.

"Score one for some Indian dude whose name I can't remember," she says, holding up her hand to high five him.

"Okay, Vyasa wasn't some dude, he was the organiser of the Vedas."

"Okay," she says, rolling her eyes, because her partner is a total dork. 

"The oldest sacred texts ever written, and the basis of Hinduism," he adds.

"Never read 'em," she tells him. "I'm waiting for the Bollywood movie."

He snorts, as she knew he would, but they both know that although she's a total computer geek, Daisy does read books. It's just that her education was patchy because she spent her childhood being bounced between various foster homes and the orphanage where she'd been abandoned as a one year old, and as a result there are a lot of gaps in her knowledge, not all of which she's had a chance to fill since – comparative religion being one of them.

"Any idea how many of these things there are?" she asks him.

"Don't ask questions you don't want me to answer," he tells her, then nudges her with his shoulder as four separate balls of static electricity come charging (pun totally intended, thank you very much) down the Warehouse aisle towards them.

"I hope this baby can handle four at once," Daisy says worriedly. 

"I have no idea," Coulson answers, and she can tell he's as concerned as she is. She's startled when he takes the jade elephant from her and holds it up just as the first ball of energy reaches them. He then whips his arm across in front of his body and captures a second ball, before he flings his arm out to the side to take the third.

"Coulson," Daisy calls anxiously as the fourth ball shoots towards them, and he spins sideways across in front of her to allow that one to hit the elephant too. The elephant glows bright green in his purple-gloved hand, and he staggers slightly. She puts her hand to the small of his back, steadying him as green sparks start flashing off the elephant which he's lowering towards the battery. Before he can touch the feet to the base in order to discharge the energy into the battery a bigger spark, like a bolt of green lightning, shoots up into the shelves of books and hits two, burning them. Daisy winces in dismay. 

"Coulson!" she shouts, panicking slightly. "I don't think that this bad boy does four."

He hunches his shoulders as another bolt of lightning shoots out of the elephant and hits a box of manuscript pages on a shelf above them, causing them to start falling down, like leaves blown from a tree.

When the storm of paper stops, they look at each other, then yelp in surprise as they realise their clothes have changed and their surroundings too, and everything seems to have turned black and white.

"What happened?" Coulson asks.

"You're asking me?" Daisy exclaims. "You're the man who's worked at Warehouse 13 more years than I've been alive." She looks down at her clothes – a pencil skirt with matching jacket, and she can feel a hat balanced on her head, then she looks at the suit Coulson's wearing. "Our clothes – they look like something from one of those black and white 1940s movies you love." She frowns. "This isn't time travel, is it?" 

"No," he says, "the 1940s were in colour, much like the rest of history."

"Then where are we?" she asks.

He goes over to the window of the office in which they've found themselves standing, and slides it up, then looks out into the street. "Okay, we're in Chicago."

"Huh," says Daisy, baffled. "Let's retrace our steps. You had the elephant and it shot lightning up into the stacks."

"And it was raining manuscript pages – which were blank."

"Not all of them," she says, picking one up from the desk in front of them. " _Kiss me, Forever_ by Anthony Bishop." She shows it to him.

"I'm gonna go with no, that is not a good title," he says, pointing at the pencilled note on the title page.

"I loved Anthony Bishop," she tells him, and he gives her a surprised look. "What, I read books," she says.

He chuckles. "I know you do."

"He was a Forties Crime novelist – the hard boiled kind. I read every one of them when I was 12 – I spent a whole summer with a foster family, where the mom had loads of crime novels from the Golden Age. I read all of them that summer."

Coulson nods, his expression soft – the look he always gets in his eyes whenever she talks about her childhood. 

"Did you read _Kiss Me, Forever_?" he asks.

"No. This was his last one. I don't think he ever finished it."

"Well that would explain the blank pages," he observes. 

"He went insane from writer's block," Daisy explains, "and then – killed himself."

"Which explains how the manuscript became an artefact," he adds, and she nods – he's explained to her that artefacts are usually created in response to great emotion.

They decide to go outside to see if they can establish how or why they're in Forties Chicago, and Daisy immediately asks, "Do you smell fudge?"

"Yes. That's all I can smell." 

They cross the street and walk a couple of blocks away from the building in which they'd found themselves, but no kind of explanation for their situation becomes apparent, so they return to the private investigator's office in case they need to be there in order to get back to the Warehouse.

"How do we get back home?" Daisy asks, wondering if they'll be stuck here forever, and wondering, too, what Trip and Mike, their fellow Warehouse 13 agents, will make of their total disappearance when they return from their own snagging mission in New York.

"I think – " Coulson begins, then stops when the door opens and a blonde woman steps in.

"I hear you're the best in town," she says.

"I like what you hear," Coulson responds, and Daisy rolls her eyes behind his back. He's very good at the casual flirting, and the whole 'Charm School' thing – he does it with everyone – men and women – they meet on the job. Sometimes it's kinda annoying. 

"Please, I didn't know where else to turn," the woman continues. "My husband has disappeared and I think it has something to do with this." She takes a photo from her purse and Daisy feels a jolt of surprise when she sees a man in a typical safari suit holding the jade elephant artefact that they'd been using before ending up in Forties Chicago.

"Look what else made the trip," she observes to Coulson in a murmur.

He guides the blonde woman into a chair, then perches on the edge of the desk to talk to her. Daisy moves to stand beside him and stares down at the photo in his hands.

"So, Miss – "

"Carson. Mrs Rebecca Carson," the woman answers.

"Mrs Carson, how can we help you?" Daisy asks.

"Thank you, you're very kind," Mrs Carson says, smiling up at her. "I would love a cup of joe."

"Sorry?" Daisy asks, confused.

Coulson turns to look at her. "I think Mrs Carson would like you – my secretary – to get her a cup of coffee," he tells her.

She bristles with indignation at the idea of being anyone's secretary, even Coulson's.

"If it's not too much trouble," Mrs Carson adds, obviously expecting Daisy to conform to the gender stereotypes of the time. Which, for the record, suck.

"Two sugars in mine, doll," Coulson adds.

"Oh I will put a little extra something in yours," Daisy tells him, glaring before she moves away to fetch the cups of coffee. He is enjoying this far too much, if you ask her.

"So, your husband likes elephants?" Coulson asks behind her.

"Oliver was an archaeologist," Mrs Carson tells him, and Daisy glances back over her shoulder to see the other woman moving into Coulson's personal space. "He found this jade relic" – she touches the photo Coulson still holds. "In India. He said it had magical powers."

"Magical powers," Coulson repeats, looking over at Daisy, and she wonders if the missing Mr Carson knows the elephant's an artefact.

"Yes. He was terrified it might end up in the wrong hands, and now he's gone, and I'm just so – I'm frightened. I mean, I – "

"Relax, toots," Daisy interjects, interrupting Mrs Carson's breathless monologue. "Coulson here is the best shamus in town." She passes a mug of coffee to Mrs Carson.

"Thank you," she says, accepting the mug with another smile.

"I'm a what now?" Coulson asks, looking bewildered, and it amuses Daisy – possibly far too much – that for once she knows something he doesn't.

"Excuse us a sec, will you?" she asks Mrs Carson.

The other woman nods, and Daisy moves over to the other side of the office with Coulson. 

"Coulson, how does someone else have our artefact?" she asks urgently. "I remember you dropped it before we arrived – got sucked in here."

"It must have gotten pulled in with us," he says. "And you and I fell into the roles of private detective and his secretary – "

"Girl Friday," she interjects firmly. 

"Secretary," he repeats.

"Girl Friday," she insists, "or you can solve this case by yourself, while I make coffee. Apparently our artefact is what this story is about. The Case of the Missing Jade Elephant."

"The Missing Jade Elephant," Coulson echoes her words.

"Exactly."

"So if the manuscript got turned into an artefact because of Bishop's writer's block – "

"And now we have a case to solve."

"So maybe the way to escape from this story is to solve the case – do what Bishop couldn't – "

"And finish the story," Daisy agrees.

They look at each other, both excited at the idea, and Daisy thinks, not for the first time, how lucky she is to have ended up at Warehouse 13, and also how lucky she is to work with a man with whom she can share this kind of weird stuff with, and them both know what the other is thinking.

"The only thing is, how are we going to find the artefact?" Daisy asks. "Good as we are at finding artefacts, in this story we don't have any of our tools here. We don't have goo, we don't have a Tesla, or a Farnsworth. We don't have any Warehouse backup, because no one even knows we're here. Mike and Trip are out on an assignment and aren't gonna be back for at least another 24 hours."

"Yeah, but we've got one thing going for us," Coulson says.

"What's that?" she asks him.

"Nobody finds artefacts like we do, dollface," he says, and gently bumps his fist against her chin.

She rolls her eyes at his phoney accent, then smiles despite herself because she knows he's trying to cheer her up.

"Lady," he calls, turning towards Mrs Carson, who stands up. "You've got yourself a gumshoe."

He gives Daisy an expectant look, then nods at the notepad and pen on the desk, and she rolls her eyes again, then picks both up and gets Mrs Carson to give her their home address, and the address of Oliver Carson's office, then she and Coulson head downstairs to find some transport so they can go and investigate Carson's office.

As they walk down the hallway towards the office, Coulson says, "The dame said the last place she saw her husband was his office. She might have said more, but – "

"Coulson, are you narrating?" Daisy asks disbelievingly.

"No, I'm just – I'm getting into character," he says, then looks away, his expression sheepish.

"When other people are around. Besides, this isn't a cheesy movie, this is an Anthony Bishop novel."

"Hey, noir films are awesome," he counters.

She huffs a laugh. "Yes, but Bishop's novels are superb – they had an elegance, a beauty – " She catches his look, a mixture of amusement and surprise at her passionate defence of Bishop's novels, but really, he's never read them – which is a bit of a surprise as she'd thought he'd read everything.

"Daisy Johnson, are you actually enjoying this?" he teases.

"No," she says firmly, but when he cocks an inquisitive eyebrow, she admits, "A tiny bit."

He nods, and touches his hand to her arm. "I am too," he assures her warmly, then reaches out to open the office door, which is opened by someone who's got 'Thug #1' written all over him, Daisy thinks.

"Hello handsome," Coulson says cheerily to the thug in the doorway, who immediately punches him in the face as an accomplice grabs hold of Daisy from behind and manhandles her from the office while the first thug put his arms under Coulson's shoulders and drags him down the hallway. They're bundled into a car, then driven across town and taken into somewhere called The Indigo Club.

Inside is a portly man in a white safari suit and fedora. He gestures at the thugs to deposit Daisy and Coulson in the two chairs standing in the middle of the dance floor, and they comply, tying their wrists behind their backs.

"You won't get away with this," Daisy tells the man confidently.

"Oh but I think I will," he says in a superior tone, which makes her scowl. He nods at one of his thugs. "Wake him up."

The thug nods, then throws a pitcher of water in Coulson's face, and to Daisy's relief Coulson opens his eyes, then splutters at the water running down his face. Almost immediately he looks over at Daisy. "Are you okay?"

She nods. "They didn't hurt me."

"I would never hurt a lady unnecessarily," the man asserts. "Now then, what were you doing in Carson's office?"

"We were looking for dope on who snatched him," she says.

"And I guess we found it," Coulson adds.

"No," she says. "Coulson, he's looking for Carson too. Aren't you, Mr – "

"Barnabus," answers the man. "Caspian Barnabus." Her gives her a half bow. "You're quite astute for a woman." 

Daisy gives him a fake smile. "I went to college," she lies.

"I bet you did," says Barnabus genially. 

"You're after the jade elephant, aren't you?" she asks.

"There is such a thing as too smart," Barnabus tells her, his geniality disappearing quickly.

Daisy straightens up in her chair and lowers her voice confidentially. "You wanna know a secret?" She senses Coulson looking at her as Barnabus approaches, and guesses her partner's wondering at the tone of her voice and her behaviour. Barnabus bends forward and leans in close.

"I am awash with anticipation," he tells her.

"Your goons went easy on me because I'm a dame."

He nods. "Uh-huh."

"They shoulda tied my ropes tighter," she whispers, then pulls her right hand from behind her chair and socks Barnabus in the jaw. As he staggers backwards, Daisy stands up, turns around, and grabbing her chair, smashes it over the head of the goon who'd been standing behind her. The goon beside Coulson's chair starts to move around it, and he sticks out his leg, tripping up the goon, then kicking him in the face with his other foot. The third goon rushes at Daisy, gun out, but she grabs his outstretched arm with both hands, before lifting her right and punching him twice in the face, simultaneously grabbing the gun in her left hand, as the third goon falls down, and Daisy confronts Barnabus, the gun held steady in both her hands as she points it at him.

"Now untie him, you big jasper," she says in a commanding tone.

"There's been a terrible misunderstanding," Barnabus says as the goon Daisy hit with her chair gets up and unties Coulson. 

"Yeah, you misunderstood how kick ass my partner can be," Coulson says in a tone of mingled pride and satisfaction.

She feels a thrill of pride of her own at his praise, but she keeps her attention on Barnabus as Coulson scoops up the gun of the goon he'd tripped up. 

"I am, by vocation, a – shall we say – procurer of rare and valuable artefacts," Barnabus tells them.

"Oh yeah?" says Daisy, indicating herself and Coulson. "Us too." 

"Excellent," exclaims Barnabus. "Kindred spirits."

She frowns at the other man, then exchanges a glance with Coulson.

"I hired Mr Carson to find the jade elephant," Barnabus tells them. "But alas, once found, he decided to retain ownership."

"Why'd you think that is?" Daisy asks.

"What motivates any man?" asks Barnabus. "Greed."

"I bet you know all about that," she retorts.

"I paid him," Barnabus says sternly. "That means I am the owner of the jade elephant and the wronged party in this sordid tale."

"Yeah, tell that to my aching jaw," counters Coulson, massaging it a bit.

"My sincere regrets," says Barnabus, moving towards them, and kicking the man Daisy had knocked out. He fishes something from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Here – a retainer to find my elephant."

As Coulson starts to turn the man down, Daisy takes the hundred dollar bill from Barnabus. "Eggs and coffee, boss," she tells him, and walks towards the office door.

When she looks back, Coulson's gaping at her just a little, and she smirks at him. "Come on, this'll be duck soup."

Daisy suggests they hire a car since they have both the $100 from Barnabus and the advance Mrs Carson gave them. She's not a bit surprised when Coulson picks out a soft top sportscar – she's teased him often enough about his Corvette – Lola – although she's not a soft top.

Returning to Carson's office, they quickly discover that the elephant isn't present – the office has already been tossed by Barnabus' men.

"Barnabus' goons must've missed something or he wouldn't have hired us," she observes as they prowl around the office.

"Yeah, and you took his money. Why?" 

"We're gonna need something, some cash while we're trapped in here," she points out, and he gives a nod – he is, she realises, pleased at her initiative.

"Kristie-Anne," she says as she looks in the desk drawers.

"What?" he asks. "Is that like Jasper?"

"Anthony Bishop, the author, his mother's name was Kristie-Anne." She lifts a matchbook from the drawer of Carson's desk and holds it out to Coulson, who puts down the large hunting knife he'd been examining.

"Yeah, so?" he asks, and looks at the matchbook, which has the name of the Kristie-Anne hotel on it."

"So – " says Daisy, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Oh right, so the goons would never know that – it's just a plain old matchbook to them. An unintended clue for us."

She can't help smirking at him, and he chuckles. "You're quite astute for a woman," he says, mimicking Barnabus' voice as well as his words. She rolls her eyes, then leads the way out of the office.

Once at the hotel, they approach the young man on the reception desk, and Coulson holds out the hundred dollar bill. "We need your guestbook and no questions. You got that ace?"

The young man snatches the bank note, turns the guestbook around towards them, then turns and walks away.

"Coulson, it's the Forties, you could have bribed him with five dollars," she tells him, then opens the guestbook and begins paging through it.

"Yeah, I want change from that C-note, see," Coulson calls after the disappearing young man. A door bangs behind him, and her partner turns towards her. "He's not coming back, is he?"

"Someone's erased an entry," she tells him, showing him the blank line on the page.

"Oh, I've got this one," he tells her. "Raymond St James did it in _Dark Momento_." He picks up the pencil that's lying on the desk beside the guestbook and lightly shades over the erased entry.

"Augustus Pitt-Rivers, 204," he reads out. "That is a noir name, if ever I heard one."

"Coulson, Augustus Rivers is a real archaeologist." He raises an eyebrow at her, and she scowls. "I read stuff," she tells him defensively. "Online, yes, but I do read."

He curls his hand over her wrist. "I know you read," he says gently. "I just didn't know you knew anything about archaeology."

She smirks. "I know stuff about stuff, she says.

He chuckles. "Our missing Mr Carson is an archaeologist. He must be using Rivers as his alias."

The elevator arrives just as the wall lamp behind them sparks noisily and they hear an elephant trumpeting.

"That remind you of anything?" she asks.

"I'd say there's a jade elephant in the room," Coulson says.

Once upstairs, he bursts into room 204 ahead of Daisy, where they discover a body on the floor, and a wide open window.

"The window," she says, and he hurries over to look outside as she moves to check the body on the floor.

"Carson," shouts Coulson, leaning out of the window, and she hears him firing shots at whoever's outside. Almost immediately she hears the sound of an elephant trumpeting, and a bolt of lightning shoots into the room through the window, just missing him.

"Carson's still got the elephant," he tells her, coming to stand nearby.

"I don't think so," she tells him, turning the head of the body so he can see the man's face. "This is Oliver Carson, and he's dead."

"All right. Well, whoever killed Carson has the elephant. Either way, we don't.

"Coulson," Daisy says, pushing up to her feet and accepting his hand when he offers it to help her up. "This isn't just a story about a missing relic. If Carson's dead, we're in a murder mystery."

"Great, now we've got to find the missing dingus and put the finger on whoever rubbed out Carson, or we're locked up in crazy town forever." 

They exchange worried looks. "Why couldn't we have fallen into a cookbook?" he moans, and she chuckles.

"You'd have liked that, wouldn't you?" she teases since his cooking rivals that of Akela, the young woman who runs the B&B where Warehouse Agents other than Coulson live. (He's got a room in the Warehouse where he sleeps, but he usually comes to the B&B to eat breakfast and dinner with them.)

"I would," he agrees happily. 

She shakes her head, then they make their way out of the hotel. "We'd better go and tell Mrs Carson we found her husband, and that he's dead," she suggests, and he nods, his expression sombre now.

"If Bishop couldn't solve his own murder mystery, how are we supposed to?" Coulson asks as they drive.

"No idea, but if we don't, we'll be trapped in black and white forever."

"And who knows what'll happen to the Warehouse in our absence," Coulson observes as he parks the car, then leads the way up to the front door.

He knocks, and Daisy stands just behind his right shoulder, her mind circling around the problem of who killed Carson.

The door is opened by a dark-haired woman who asks, "Can I help you?"

Coulson takes off his hat, gestures to Daisy with it, then says, "Yeah, we're working for Mrs Rebecca Carson. Is she home?"

"I'm sorry," the woman says. "Who are you?"

"Mrs Carson hired us to find her husband," Daisy elaborates. "May we speak with her?"

"Is this a joke?" the woman asks, beginning to sound irritated. "I'm Rebecca Carson."

Coulson turns to look at Daisy, but she can only shrug in incomprehension.

Mrs Carson, the real Mrs Carson, invites them in, and shows them a photograph of herself and Oliver Carson. "I never thought he'd turn up at all," she tells them.

"Yeah, and how's that?" asks Coulson as the two of them perch awkwardly on Mrs Carson's couch.

"I assumed I'd never see him again," she says, returning the framed photo to its spot on the mantelpiece, and moving towards them. "After he took all my money and ran off with that peroxide blonde."

Coulson looks at Daisy, and she can tell he's thinking of the young woman who'd originally hired them. 

"Can you tell us anything about her?" Daisy asks.

"She has terrible taste in men," Mrs Carson says bitterly.

"A name would be more helpful," Coulson says gently.

"All I know is he met the little round heels at the Indigo Club," Mrs Carson tells them.

Coulson thanks her for her help, apologises for disturbing her, then they take their leave. Once in the car, he says, "Well, it looks like I'm going to be taking you dancing."

She feels a thrill of excitement at the prospect, but tries not to let it show – her crush on Coulson, who's her closest friend as well as her field partner, has only grown over the two years that she's been at the Warehouse, but she's never dared say anything because she can't face the thought of him rejecting her, nor does she know how they'd be able to continue working together if he did reject her. (She suspects he thinks of himself as a father figure as well as her mentor, because of the age gap, but she's never wanted a father figure, so she's never seen him in that way.)

They stop off a boutique so they can get something suitable to wear at the Indigo Club, and Daisy suggests picking up a couple of other outfits too. He agrees readily, and when she sees the tuxedo he's acquired, she can't help noticing that it makes him look even more handsome than usual. 

When she steps out of the dressing room in her own dress, he simply stares at her for several long moments while she waits breathlessly for his verdict.

"You look amazing," he says, sounding breathless himself, and very earnest.

"Thanks," she says, blushing a little. The dress is silver, an off-the-shoulder, backless number with which she's wearing elbow-length gloves, high heeled shoes, and a matching diamond and earrings set.

When they stroll into the Indigo Club, Daisy's hand tucked through Coulson's elbow, a number of heads turn their way, and Daisy's glad that Coulson's beside her otherwise she suspects she'd be accosted by a number of men. 

"So it's gotta be the blonde, right?" she asks Coulson. "She beat us to Carson, killed him and took the artefact."

"Or she's working for Barnabus," Coulson suggests.

"On the other hand, why hire us to solve a crime she committed?"

"It's a good plot device," she points out. They look around the dance floor. "Coulson, someone's not happy to see us." She directs his attention to the man behind the bar.

"Nobody's been happy to see us," he complains. "The Forties were rude."

She can't help chuckling a little at that, and she realises that she's profoundly glad that he's the one stuck here with her – if she has to be trapped forever in a novel, she'd rather be trapped with Coulson than anyone else. It's not that she doesn't get along well with her fellow Agents, Trip and Mike, but they're more like the big brothers she never had, while her relationship with Coulson is rather different, and a whole lot closer.

They're looking around the dance floor – scanning for clues, Daisy would say if she was asked, when the band finishes playing, and a figure appears on the stage in front of the band. Initially the woman is silhouetted as she launches into a song, but then spotlights come on, and Daisy grabs Coulson's arm as the fake Mrs Carson appears in view.

The blonde begins singing: _My darling, after you've gone and left me crying –_

"Well surprise, surprise," Daisy says slowly.

_There's no denying you feel blue, you feel sad, you miss the bestest pal you ever had_ , sings the blonde.

Coulson seems entranced, and Daisy nudges his shoulder with hers; he looks at her, his expression rueful.

"One of my mom's favourite songs," he tells her in a low voice, and she nods, understanding his distraction. 

"We'll grab her after the song," she says.

"Yeah. Let's blend, keep a low profile," he suggests, then he startles her by grabbing her hand and pulling her over to where other couples are dancing.

"Gonna show me your moves, Agent Coulson?" she teases.

He smirks at her. "Sure, doll," he says, then chuckles when she frowns at him for the 'doll' comment.

"This is keeping a low profile?" she asks as he steers her around the floor.

"Well, everyone's either dancing or drinking, and technically we're on duty, so drinking's out of the question."

He's a good dancer, she thinks – though she's not surprised – his moves are very smooth and although she's never danced like this before, she finds herself having fun, just a little.

As he spins her around, Daisy spots a familiar face, and when he pulls her body in against his, she says, a little breathlessly, "Check at six o'clock."

He turns them gently, her body still plastered to his so firmly that she swears she can feel his heartbeat against the bare skin of her back, despite the suit and dress shirt he's wearing. Her own heart begins to beat faster, and it's both embarrassing and exciting to realise she's a little aroused by being pressed against his chest, his large hands firmly holding hers. She forces herself to focus on the mission, not the man at her back.

"If he killed Carson," she says, referring to Barnabus, who's sitting at a table by the far wall, "he's one cool customer."

"Yeah," agrees Coulson. "And the hooch slinger with the evil eye has lost interest in us."

She looks over at the bartender she'd spotted earlier and sees he's staring at the blonde who'd claimed to be Mrs Carson. There's a really dreamy look in his eyes, she thinks.

"And that canary's one dame we know's not on the square," Daisy observes. "And she's made us," she adds, seeing recognition in the singer's eyes as she spots them through a gap in the crowd of dancers.

"And instead of going for an encore, looks like she's going for a powder," Coulson says.

"Or is she making a break for it?" Daisy asks as the singer hurries offstage.

"Let's go," he says, and they hurry after the blonde.

Fortunately, despite Daisy's high heeled shoes, they manage to catch up with the singer, bringing her to bay in the hallway outside the main dance floor.

"Good evening Mrs – Carson."

The woman flinches when Coulson uses her fake name, then she sighs, before leading them into her dressing room.

"Yes, I lied," she says as Coulson sits nearby, leaving Daisy to prowl around the room. "If I'd told you the truth, you wouldn't have helped me."

"Well now we'll never know, will we?" asks Coulson. "Now what's your real name?" 

"Lily," she says, sounding a little breathless, even tearful. "Lily Abbot. Please, I wasn't trying – "

"Cut to the chase, Lil," Coulson tells her sternly. "You admit to killing Carson, tell us where the elephant is, and we'll make sure you don't get the chair."

"But I didn't kill Carson, I was here rehearsing."

"It's time to start singing, sister," Daisy interjects, "and I don't mean a love song."

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Lily says earnestly. "I'm not a bad girl." She flutters her eyelashes at Coulson hopefully. 

"That's a baloney sandwich and you know it," Daisy tells her, and sees Coulson, from the corner of her eye, giving her a somewhat baffled look.

"Let me guess," Daisy continues. "You're a small town gal, caught up in the wrong crowd, now you're in over your head and all you want is a way out. To disappear and leave this life behind. That the picture?"

She turns around, having paced away from where Coulson and Lily are sitting, to see they're both gazing at her in surprise.

"How did you know that?" asks Lily admiringly.

Daisy doesn't bother telling her that it's a common fiction trope. "I've heard that tune a hundred times, same song, different key," she tells the other woman. "Now sing me the chorus."

"But you already know half of it," Lily objects mildly.

"Humour me," Daisy says. "I'll even start. Barnabus has you under his thumb." 

"He made me get close to Mr Carson," Lily tells them. "To keep an eye on him while he searched for the jade elephant." She glances from Daisy to Coulson, who gives her an encouraging nod.

"When Oliver double-crossed Mr Barnabus, I knew he was a goner. That's why I hired you, to keep him safe."

"You felt for Carson?" asks Coulson.

"I felt bad for Carson, but I didn't love him. I have a man and we're gonna run away from all of this." She looks up at Daisy, who's still standing over her, listening intently.

"Sure you are, kitten," she says, hoping to provoke Lily into telling them more.

Lily turns back to Coulson and reaches for his hands. "Please." She glances up at Daisy, then back to Coulson. "Please, you've gotta help me."

Daisy moves closer. "Aw," she says, and reaches out to put a finger under Lily's chin, tilting her head up. "Save it for the coppers."

Coulson gets to his feet, and as he moves to escort Daisy out of Lily's dressing room, he observes in a low voice, "You have been dying to play that scene, haven't you?"

She feels herself beginning to blush as she admits, "Since I was 12."

He smirks, and follows her outside.

"Tell me you didn't fall for Lily's act?" she asks.

"Well, I don't know," he says slowly. "It makes sense. Barnabus kills Carson, grabs the elephant."

Daisy shakes her head. "Coulson, don't be fooled by a pretty face and a bad dye job."

As they cross the dance floor a busboy approaches and asks Coulson, "Excuse me, are you the private dick?"

He seems a bit flustered by the question, which amuses Daisy more than it probably should. He assures the busboy that he is a private investigator. The young man holds out a folded note, which Coulson takes from him. He unfolds the paper, then shows it to Daisy, who reads, _I can help you. Meet me out back._

"That's gotta be a trap," he says.

"No," she says. "Whoever wrote this, we need to talk to them right away."

He looks startled by her determined tone, but he follows her out the back.

"Daisy, Daisy," he calls as she shoves open the fire exit door. "Hey wait."

They step out onto the street and the barman who'd been giving them the stink eye earlier steps out of the shadows.

She feels Coulson grab her hand and she's embarrassed by how grateful she is for the gesture.

"I don't know how you got in here," the barman says, "but you better take to the air."

"What d'you mean, how we got in here?" remonstrates Coulson. "We used the front door like everyone else."

She realises that's not what the man means, and then realises just who the man must be.

"No, he's not talking about the club," she tells Coulson. "He's talking about the book."

"So – " Coulson points at the man, his tone disbelieving. "You're a real person too?"

"Coulson, this is Anthony Bishop," she tells him excitedly. "The author. Oh my god. I'm Daisy Johnson," she says, rushing towards Bishop, her hand outstretched. "I'm a big fan."

"I'm flattered, Miss," Bishop says, bringing his right arm out from behind his back where it's been concealed, revealing that he holds a gun. "Now, drop this case or I shut both your private eyes for good."

Daisy backs up until she's standing beside Coulson again.

"How'd you know I was me, anyway?" Bishop asks, sounding curious.

"The handwriting on your cocktail napkin – " She reaches for Coulson's pocket, earning herself a startled look until he realises what she wants, and pulls out the folded title page from the manuscript. "It matched the notes on your title page. Of your book."

She passes it to Bishop and he takes it from her, staring down at it. "My manuscript," he says. "How did you get in here?"

She glances at Coulson, and they both laugh nervously. "Oh man, you wouldn't believe it," she says.

"How did you get in here?" asks Coulson.

"I – I just – " He looks baffled, Daisy thinks. "Oh what's it matter?"

"Please, Mr Bishop, it's important," she tells him.

"Well, if you're a fan, then you know how I dedicate every book."

"'With love to my love'," she quotes. "They're all dedicated to your wife, right?"

Bishop looks as if he's going to cry, and she feels a surge of sympathy for him as Coulson says softly, "Something happened to her."

"It happened so fast," Bishop tells them, shaking his head. "One day she was sick, then she was gone." He turns his head away and Daisy finds herself holding Coulson's hand without realising she'd grabbed it. He squeezes it gently in his own as they exchange worried looks.

"I threw myself into a new novel," Bishop continues. "Wrote a few chapters. And then – " He breaks off, shaking his head again. "Well, the story was wrong. My wife was all I could think about."

Daisy stares at him, figuring out what must have happened: she knows that artefacts are most often created through very strong emotions.

"I'd sit in front of my typewriter," Bishop tells them, "and close my eyes, and I'd imagine this world. Then one day, I opened my eyes – I was here."

"So it wasn't writer's block that created the artefact," Coulson says quietly. "It was grief."

"Yes, but our way out, it's still the same," Daisy tells him. She looks back at the author. "Mr Bishop, in order for us to get out of this world, we need to – well, we think we need to finish your story – "

"Yes, yes, just tell us who did it," Coulson says eagerly. "We'll bring him to justice, grab our elephant, and then we can all go home."

Daisy laughs softly in relief at the prospect.

"No," says Bishop firmly, and he pulls out his gun again. "I don't want this story to end. Stop trying to solve it."

Daisy and Coulson back away as Bishop moves forward brandishing the gun. She wishes they had a Tesla here, then something clicks in her head.

"It was you," she says. "You erased Carson's alias from the hotel register, didn't you? Why? Mr Bishop, what's here for you?"

"Not what, Daisy, but who." Coulson says. "I saw you looking at Lily. You're in love with her."

"You stay away from Lily," Bishop says. "She's special, she's – "

"She's based on your wife," Daisy says, somehow knowing she's right.

"Look, Mr Bishop, we just want to get out of here, okay? What's that got to do with Lily?" Coulson sounds a little desperate now, she thinks – not that she blames him – she feels a bit desperate herself.

"All of his books end with someone innocent dying in a shootout," Daisy says, remembering the stories she read as a pre-teen. "In this one, it's supposed to be Lily, isn't it?"

"That's why you couldn't finish your story," Coulson says.

Bishop waves the gun threateningly at them again. "I couldn't save her in the real world, but I will in here. So back off."

Coulson startles Daisy by snatching the gun from Bishop's hand. "Quit waving that iron around you big palooka." He tosses the gun back. "You're a writer, not a killer."

"Coulson – "

"No, maybe not," Bishop agrees. "But I can stop you from ever finishing the story. I won't lose her again, see. You're in this book for good." He backs away, leaving them standing in the alley.

"Mr Bishop," Daisy calls, trying to think of a way of reasoning with him, but he runs off into the darkness.

She and Coulson exchange worried looks, then she grits her teeth in determination. "Come on. Barnabus is our only lead."

Back inside the Indigo Club they find Barnabus' table empty and the waitress collecting her tip. 

"Say, toots, you seen Barnabus?" Coulson asks her.

"He got a phonecall and dusted out," she says. "Left me a lousy nickel. But, uh, I can keep you company till he gets back." She puts her hand on Coulson's jacket, then reaches up with her free hand to toy with his bowtie, and Daisy sees him blush – which is not something she's ever imagined seeing. 

"Rain check," he stutters, and the waitress smirks, nods, then walks away.

Daisy looks at the old-fashioned phone on the little stand beside Barnabus' table. "Great, they don't have *69 or caller ID in the Forties."

"And this is why it pays to watch movies," Coulson tells her, smirking, his previous embarrassment clearly forgotten. He picks up the handset, then bangs the metal support it had been resting on. "Operator? Say, doll, what's your name? Doris? Oh I love that name." He smirks at Daisy, who rolls her eyes, and mouths, 'Charm School' at him.

"No, no, I really do," he tells the operator. "Let me guess, sultry voice, intoxicating laugh, you're a redhead." He chuckles and Daisy bangs her fist against his arm to get him to focus.

"Say, Doris, maybe you can help me out? Any chance you listened in on the last call? Maybe, I don't know – something about an elephant?" he suggests.

"Ah. Brains, too. You're the whole package, Doris. Thanks doll." He puts the handset back, then smirks at Daisy.

"You would've done great in the Forties," she says.

He adjusts his bow tie. "Charm is timeless," he intones.

"Or women got smarter," she suggests. He nods. "So, what did you find out?" 

"Let's get to the car and I'll tell you on the way," he says.

"I need to change," she tells him, and he gives her an appraising look, then nods. 

Half an hour later, dressed more comfortably in slacks and a blouse, and with Coulson in a regular suit again, he pulls up the rented car outside of town.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" she asks.

"According to my new friend, Doris, he was buying an elephant on the Fourth Street bridge," he tells her.

Daisy reaches the gap in the rails that opens above a staircase down to a dock, and sees Barnabus sprawled on his back. "It looks like we're too late," she tells Coulson, and they hurry down the stairs.

"Electric burns, just like Carson," Coulson says, crouching over the body.

"Coulson, look at that," Daisy says, one hand resting on his shoulder as she leans over him in the small space and points at the dead man's face. "Those scratches look like they were made by fingernails."

"Yeah, and long ones," he agrees.

"Looks like he's been attacked by a woman." He peers at the dead man's outstretched hand. "Daisy, look at this," he says, and lifts a long, dark hair from Barnabus' hand, holding it up to the light.

"Looks like Barnabus fought back," she says.

"And we know a woman with long, black hair," he says.

"A woman who knew Carson well enough to know where he'd hide out," Daisy says, knowing they're both thinking of the same person.

"Yeah, who was really pissed off about her husband abandoning her," he says.

Daisy puts a hand to her head. "Rebecca Carson, the jilted wife," she says. "You think it was her all along?"

"Man, can't anyone in a Bishop novel be trusted?" Coulson asks whimsically.

They turn and hurry back up the stairs, then over to the car. A figure steps out of the shadows on the side of the bridge, then an elephant trumpets and a bolt of electricity arcs across the road and hits Coulson in the chest.

Daisy yells, "Phil!" in shock, then looks across the road and sees Rebecca Carson in a long trenchcoat and a fedora, pointing the jade elephant at her.

"Rebecca, wait! Don't do this!" Daisy cries in distress.

"I loved Oliver," Rebecca tells her. "Until he found this stupid elephant, and dumped me for some dopey dame with a voice."

"What about Barnabus?" Daisy asks. "Did he deserve to die too?" 

"Yes," Rebecca says. "Barnabus was loaded with dough. He promised to pay for the elephant, then decided he could just take it."

"So you killed Carson because he had it. You killed Barnabus because he wanted it. Now you're gonna kill me just for looking at it?"

She is furiously angry now – Coulson is still down, unmoving, and she's terrified that he might be dead.

"You said it sister," Rebecca says, and fires another bolt of electricity at Daisy, but she ducks out of the way. Sirens begin to sound in the background and Rebecca gives her a furious look, then rushes away.

Daisy rushes to Coulson, shouting his name, then starts CPR.

"Phil, come on, wake up, Phil!" She continues with the CPR, shouting Coulson's name and demanding that he wake up. "Doesn't CPR work in the 1940s?" she says angrily and thumps his chest harder, and he gasps and jolts into consciousness.

She pulls him up off the ground, hoping he can't see the tears on her cheeks. "Thank God you made it. That would have been a really lousy ending."

"Did you get the elephant lady?" he asks anxiously.

"No! I decided to stick around and bring you back to life instead," she tells him.

"Right," he says. "Good choice. Thanks." 

She stares at him, chest heaving, and is surprised when he pulls her to him and hugs her briefly. "Nice save, Agent Johnson."

She nods, a little overwhelmed still.

"Daisy, she's going to need some dough if she's gonna skip town."

"Rebecca thought Barnabus had loads of it. Coulson – the Indigo Club."

"Let's beat it," he says, and they hurry to the car.

Arriving at the club, they rush inside only to find Rebecca and Lily standing on the stairs to the offices on the floor above, Rebecca holding the jade elephant, which she immediately fires at them.

"You and your loogan just made a trip for biscuits. Now I'm putting you in a wooden kimono," Rebecca tells them. 

"That's not even English," Coulson objects.

"Doesn't matter, because this is over," Daisy says, lifting and pointing the gun she'd acquired earlier from one of Barnabus' goons. Before she can shoot, however, a shot rings out from further up the staircase.

"You'll let Rebecca walk out of here," Bishop tells them as he comes down the stairs behind the two women, "so she lets Lily go." He moves further down the stairs, standing below the women. "Or you die."

"The dame already fried two people, Bishop," Coulson tells him. "The first chance she gets, she'll drop you both into deep freeze."

"I'll take my chances," Bishop tells them.

"Tony, are you bananas?" asks Lily. "They're on our side."

"Shut your trap you dumb broad," orders Rebecca.

"Scram, or I throw lead," Bishop tells them.

"You don't want to lose someone you love," Coulson says. "I get it, but this literally has to end."

"No. My life is here now." He looks up at Lily. "With Lily."

"Tony, I love you," she tells him. "But if you think I'd let you hurt anybody just to save me – well, you don't know me at all."

"You're just like her," Bishop says, his voice full of emotion. "Pure and sweet, and usually right."

"I know," Lily tells him, then jerks her left arm up, dislodging Rebecca's grip on her shoulder and punching the other woman in the face, then she stamps on Rebecca's instep, and hurries down the stairs hand-in-hand with Bishop.

Rebecca clutches at her foot for a moment, then straightens up and fires the elephant down at the escaping couple. Coulson rushes towards her, ducking the bolts of electricity that Rebecca fires at him and the others, who take shelter behind the reception desk.

Coulson wrestles with Rebecca, but Daisy's temporarily distracted by Lily telling Bishop, "I love you, baby."

"You're all I care about," he assures her.

"Save it for the boat ride," Daisy advises them just as they're about to kiss. She looks up just in time to see Rebecca punch Coulson, knocking him down the stairs. 

"Bishop, there's no way Rebecca is a real person trapped in here too, is there?" Daisy asks him.

"No, I based her on my mother-in-law."

"Well, you'll like this then," she tells him as Rebecca begins to stalk down the stairs holding the jade elephant at arm's length, ready to use it again.

She straightens up from behind the reception desk and fires, shooting Rebecca in the chest. She drops the elephant, then topples over the banister to the lobby floor.

Coulson picks himself up, takes off his hat, then looks down at the body. "Now that's hard ball," he says in an admiring tone that makes Daisy flush.

Then he scoops up the elephant and they walk out into the street. 

"Okay, why are we still here?" she asks as they both look around.

"Because we didn't bring the killer to justice?"

"In a noir novel, it is justice," Daisy tells him.

He stares across the street into the fog, then looks down at the jade elephant. "Okay, Daisy, I'm just working on a hunch here – "

"What?" she asks, looking across the street too, but not seeing anything significant.

"Cross everything you've got, sweetheart," he tells her, then fires a bolt of electricity into the fog. When Daisy blinks away the brightness there's a 'hole' in the air, purple and red, that's rippling madly – it's clearly the way back into the Warehouse.

"Nice," she tells him, then leans in to press a kiss to his lips.

He makes a pleased noise, then wraps his free hand around her, pulling her body against his, before he kisses her back.

"You look very sexy in those clothes," he mutters against her mouth.

"Your look suits you sir," she says teasingly, then asks, "How did you know the fog would be our ride home?"

"It's the end of _Casablanca_ ," he tells her, and holds out his elbow. She slips her hand inside his arm, and they stroll across the street, and out through the portal. They've already said goodbye to Bishop and Lily – he's decided to stay in his novel, which hadn't come as a surprise to either of them.

As they walk, colour and reality seeps back into view around them, and Daisy's slightly disappointed to discover they're back to wearing their own clothes.

"That was – " she begins, then asks, "What was that?"

"That was the stuff that dreams are made of, sweetheart," he drawls in a Humphrey Bogart accent.

She chuckles, then slips her hand from his arm and bends to pick up one of the manuscript pages from the floor.

"All the pages have writing on them now," Coulson says.

"We finished the story," she says breathlessly.

He grins at her, and she grins back, then he leans in and kisses her.

"We gave Bishop a happy ending," she says.

"And us?" he says, and he sounds half hopeful, half doubtful.

"And us," she says firmly.

"Good." He shrugs off the battery he's wearing, then wraps both arms around her. "Very good."

They stand there, holding each other for a while, then begin gathering up the scattered manuscript pages. 

"I want to read this," she tells him, and he smiles. 

"I thought you might."

As they work, Daisy realises she's happier than she's ever been in her life, and while she still has abandonment issues, she dares to think that things will be different with Coulson. Their lives are dangerous, of course – the Warehouse tends to kill or send mad most of its Agents, but that's a risk worth taking to keep people safe, and it's even more worth taking when you're with someone you love.

Once all the pages are stacked neatly in the right order, Coulson guides her further down the Stacks to where there's an armchair, a side table, and a reading lamp set up, and she settles in the chair while he perches on the arm, and they begin to read the last novel of Anthony Bishop.


End file.
